


I Know the Problem is Me, My Father Told Me

by BlueWaters47



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Heavy Angst, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Sorry Paul Marner, Will update as story progresses - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-02-23 21:28:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueWaters47/pseuds/BlueWaters47
Summary: If there was one thing Mitch knew, it was that he was a lot to handle. The team….teased him about being a puppy, one with endless energy and in need of constant affection and cuddles. The never-ending need for validation and approval. Mitch knew he was a lot, but he doesn’t know how to tame it, how to get that energy under control.....Mitch could handle his teammates shying away from him to a certain extent, but it was different with Auston. He knew why it as different, why it made Mitch stop. He was in love with Auston, but Mitch knew Auston wasn’t in love with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is complete fiction. While some events (the outcome of games) are based off of real life, how the people act and behave is all fiction and made to be part of a story line. I do not know these people and have no rights to them. The plot line is mine, but nothing else is.

It started the same as the others did. Mitch knew it was going to be a bad night. That feeling of unease was with him the whole game; nausea, shakiness, paranoia. He may have assisted in the only goal of the game against the Arizona Coyotes, but that didn’t mean the media wasn’t off his back that night about his scoring drought. He knew what everyone was thinking. That he was experiencing a sophomore slump, that the Leafs wasted a perfectly good draft pick on him, how they should have drafted Noah Hanifin instead. After this game, Mitch didn’t want to face the bloodhounds that were the media. They could pick out a weakness as quickly as if there was a giant sign behind him saying “Ask me about my scoring production.” Mitch knew there wasn’t a sign, but the bloodhounds knew what his weakness was, and they knew how to track, beat, and defeat him. 

The media scrum was as bad as he expected them to be. The vultures were looking at him for answers. “Why didn’t you get back fast enough?”, “Where are the points Marner?, “Do you feel as if you deserve to be playing on the third line?.” The questions kept coming, and Mitch didn’t have an answer. He feeds them the usual cliches of trying harder and getting the puck in the other end more, but he couldn't say much more on the matter than that. 

As the reporters were waved off, Mitch leaned back against the wall and breathed out. He could feel the shaking in his hands and legs. He knew this wasn’t from the game and exhaustion. 

Mitch sat down and breathed. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this. He would be sent back down, and Mitch couldn’t have that. He was already too much of a failure, and he couldn’t give his father any more ammunition. His family had already given up so much for him to be here, Mitch couldn’t do anything that horrible to them. He looked at his watch and saw the time. He had around one hour left before his dad would call him, demanding to know why Mitch’s performance that night was so abysmal and why Mitch wasn’t doing anything more to improve the team. Mitch could already hear his father’s echoing voice in his head “failure” “disappointment.” Mitch forced his breath out. It was hard, as the pressure on his chest had increased after the awful line of questioning. He was glad that the PR team had decided to have the reporters come early before they had a chance to change and decompress. 

As Mitch struggled to breathe in and out, Morgan called him into the locker room as Babs was coming in to discuss the game. Mitch took a couple deep breathes to hold off on the panic attack. He knew one was coming, but Mitch could hold it off for another hour or so, just long enough to get home and listen to his dad.

He walked back into the locker room and looked up to see Matty. Matty, his best friend, the one person Mitch felt like he could go to. Matty was the best friend a person could ask for. He may be silent and moody, but Mitch knew everything about Matty. Mitch knew how to make him laugh, how to best cheer him up after a game, when to call Ema for advice, and when to give Matty his space. Mitch didn't like the last one so much, but he knew that Matty didn’t need Mitch in his face all the time. 

If there was one thing Mitch knew, it was that he was a lot to handle. The team….teased him about being a puppy, one with endless energy and in need of constant affection and cuddles. The never-ending need for validation and approval. Mitch knew he was a lot, but he doesn’t know how to tame it, how to get that energy under control. He hadn’t thought of it as a problem until the team wouldn’t stop talking about it. Mitch could see the resignation in his teammate's eyes whenever he waked or skated over to talk to any of them. The way they braced themselves as if preparing for a hurricane of emotions, a whirlwind of touching, a jump, tackle, or hug. Mitch tried not to overthink about the way his teammates had to brace themselves whenever he came up to them, but lately, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Especially because Auston was doing it now too. Mitch could handle his teammates shying away from him to a certain extent, but it was different with Auston. He knew why it as different, why it made Mitch stop. He was in love with Auston, but Mitch knew Auston wasn’t in love with him.

Babcock entered the room as Mitch made his way over to his stall. The room was already quiet, but as soon as Babcock came through the locker room door, the room fell dead. “Boys I don’t know what to tell you” he started with. Babcock had a deep furrow along his brow, eyebrows pinched forward with his lips pursed and pointing down. “Do you want to tell me what happened? Do any of you want to explain what the performance I saw tonight on the ice was? You gave too many turnovers and lost possession of the puck. And you know who you gave the puck to?” Babcock asked, “The Arizona Coyotes! The freaking Arizona Coyotes!” Babcock was screaming at this point. “You turned over the puck in your own end to many goddamn times and the ‘yotes won! The fucking ‘yotes won!

“Have you seen their team?” he asked again, still raging. “They should not be able to beat you. You have all been buying into what the media has been selling the public. The media says you are great so you think you are fucking amazing. Well, guess what boys, You are not. After this game, I wouldn’t even say you are great, let alone good. This team steamrolled you, and you have nothing. You let them beat you in your own fucking barn. This was a disgrace, and you better do everything in your power to do better.” Babcock paused here. He took a deep breath as his boiling red face with a vein bulging and throbbing in his forehead started to cool down, and the vein started decrease ever so slightly. He pierced everyone with a stare as if to say ‘or else.’ Babcock turned to look at Mitch and said “Because if you don’t do, the Marlies are always looking for players to help them with their own cup run.” After that statement, Mitch knew everyone was feeling the pressure. It didn’t help that everyone was feeling disappointed. Bu Mitch couldn’t get the stare from Babcock out of his head. He knew he had to try harder or else Babs would keep that promise and send him down.

Mitch looked down at his feet. He was still dressed in his uniform, having not changed out of it or showered before Babcock came in and undressed them with his speech. As he looked up, Mitch saw that most people were dragging their feet. Freddie was sitting next to Brownie who had his head in his hands. Freddie was whispering in Brownie’s ear while rubbing his thumb on Brownie's knee and putting his arm around Brownie’s waist to pull him in closer. Brownie melted into Freddie’s chest and appeared to be pinching his eyes shut. Freddie moved the hand from Brownie’s back to his neck and squeezed. Morgan and Jake kept stealing glances at each other as they undressed to shower. Mitch felt as if each glance was an entire conversation, and he could feel the weight behind them. He too started to begin undressing, keeping in mind to hide his thighs from the team and any stray eyes.

Once Mitch came out of the shower most of the team had left. Having family obligations and partners to get home to, many went home immediately after showering with Babcock’s comments still smarting in their ears and rattling around in their brains. The team knew they performed dismally that night, but knowing they played poorly and having someone yelling to them how horribly they did were two separate matters. And one hurts more than the other. 

Mitch looked around the locker room. He couldn’t find Matty which Mitch found odd. He promised Matty earlier that he would drive him home as Auston hated driving in Toronto. Mitch dressed quickly, refusing to look those left in the eyes. He didn’t want to see the disappointment and frustration directed at him. Mitch knew he deserved it, but he just couldn’t deal with any more pain that night. All he wanted was to get home fast so he could breathe for a minute before having to answer the inevitable phone call from his father. Mitch knew he would have a lot to say that night, and Mitch knew that he needed to rest before dealing with his father. 

As Mitch walked out of the locker room, he started heading down the halls to the garage, assuming that Matts was in the car waiting for Mitch. As he was just about to round a corner, Mitch heard a familiar voice in the corridor. 

“No, you aren’t listening to me.”

It was Auston, Mitch could point that voice out in a crowd of people talking. He was tuned into that voice and everything that came with it. There was a pause, and Mitch could just imagine Auston pulling at his hair with his free hand. 

“He’s just too much sometimes. He’s always there, and you have to pay attention to him constantly. I can’t do that. I don’t have the time.”

Mitch leaned against the wall, palms open, bracing himself against the wall. He hoped Auston wasn’t talking about who he thought Auston was talking about. He hoped Auston wasn’t talking about, well, him.

“No, listen to me please, I just can’t do it” 

Auston stopped talking, and Mitch assumed he held the phone away from his ear because Mitch could hear the faint sounds of someone talking through a phone.  


“What are you talking about? Have you met Mitch, he couldn’t, would you stop, no, he wouldn’t be able to. Now would you stop please talking an let me finish?”

Whatever Auston said after that didn’t matter. Mitch no longer heard the words. Only the vague sound of Auston’s voice in the background. Everything that Mitch heard was rattling around in his brain, growing louder and louder. All Mitch could think about was how Auston was saying he was too much, how he needed attention constantly, and worst of all how Auston couldn’t do it anymore, how he didn't have the time. 

Mitch backed away slowly and took the long way t the garage. He couldn’t walk past Auston without him knowing that Mitch had overheard everything. As Mitch remembered what everything was, his throat started to warm and close up. Mitch felt as if he were choking as his eyes pooled and threatened to overflow with tears. He stopped walking, having to struggle to take in a few deep breaths in order to contain himself. It was a struggle. The tears kept threatening to pool over, and his breaths remained impossible to normalize.  


After gaining some control, Mitch took one last deep breath and continued on his way to the parking garage. Once he arrived, he saw Matty, Patty, and Babcock talking in a circle. Going up to them, they stopped talking and looked at him, waiting. 

Mitch took a deep breath and asked “Could any of you take Matts home tonight? I promised him I would, but my dad just texted saying he needs to talk with me right away.”  


The three adults exchanged looks before Matty said that he would, only asking a brief “Are you okay?” to Mitch. Mitch felt his throat throb and start to contract and actively fought against that feeling. He knew that if he didn’t talk about it he would be able to handle his feelings, but when Matty asked if everything was okay, Mitch knew that if he started talking everything would come out and Mitch couldn’t do that. It wasn’t fair of him to expect everyone to like him, and Mitch didn’t want to mess with team dynamics anymore than he already had, and well as he knew now, continues to do so.

With one last thank you to Matty, Mitch walked to his car, unaware of Patty, Matty, and Babcock staring at his retreating back.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time that Mitch got home he was exhausted; any and all kinds. All he wanted to do was crash on his bed. He didn’t care that his suit would be wrinkled, or that his shoes would ruin the sheets. All he cared about was collapsing and sleeping for years. 

Mitch parked his car and looked up at his building. It was a depressing thing to look at as it was run down and old. The bricks were covered in graffiti and the windows were all grungy, engulfed in layers of filth that would take years to scrub off. The paint on the door was peeling showing the wood underneath. There was nothing about this building that screamed professional NHL player lives here. It was a dirty run down place, but it was cheap and nearest to where the Marlies lived. And on top of it, it was relatively inexpensive for an apartment, something that is close to impossible to find in Toronto. Mitch gazed at the building, taking in the familiar bars on windows and the rusty, unstable fire escapes. He sighed, he didn’t want to climb the stairs up to the tenth floor. The elevator stopped working last week and Mitch knew that it would not be fixed any time soon. The owners just didn’t care. The building was barely up to code, if that, but no one ever comes to inspect the place, and Mitch wasn't about to call Health and Safety to file a complaint.  


As he shouldered his bags from his car, he braced himself for the climb. For a professional athlete it wasn’t terrible, but he was tired, and climbing nine flights of stairs wasn’t on his plan of things to do once he got home. 

He unlocked the front door, and entered the stairwell, beginning his climb. His thighs ached, and his breathing became laboured as the stuffiness from the stairwell refused any relief to cool Mitch down. As he passed the seventh floor Mitch made a mental note to check on Ms. Huston the next morning. She was an elderly lady with no family except for an old dog, Ranger, who loved pets and cuddles. Ms. Huston welcomed Mitch to the building when he first moved in and they had struck up a bond as she didn’t know who he was since she didn’t know anything about hockey. While Mitch thought of this as sacrilegious, he was happy for the anonymity, happy that someone didn’t know anything about him or expect anything from him. She wouldn’t yell at him about his performance, nor would she talk about things he could do better or the mistakes that he made which cost his team the game. Whenever he had free time, Mitch would go down to her apartment and help with chores. If Mitch saw her in the lobby or on the stairs he would always ask how she was doing and help her up the stairs or take her groceries from her. They played card games and talked about anything they could think of. If Mitch had a bad day, he would go lie down on the rug and cuddle with Ranger. This was happening more often than not now, but Mitch never talked about his struggles to Ms. Huston. He couldn’t lose her too, not like he lost his family.

Mitch finished climbing the stairs and went down the hallway to his apartment. The hallway was covered in a filthy carpet that was covered in dust, dirt, leaves, and anything else imaginable. The paint was peeling inside the building as well, with dim lighting. If Mitch hadn’t lived here, he would have expected it to be in a horror movie. It would have been the place where someone abducted was taken to be murdered. Mitch unlocked his door, opening the three locks, only to immediately close the door once he was inside and lock them again, along with two chain locks. He didn't trust most of the tenants in the building, and while no one seemed to know who he was, Mitch didn’t feel safe without the locks.  


The building was sketchy, there was no other word that Mitch could use to describe the place. No one on the team had ever been here. Mitch had never invited people to join him, and no one ever thought to ask to come. Mitch thought this was because the team didn’t want to be around him any more than they had to, and coming to his place meant having to be in his presence for a long time with no one else there. Mitch had never put much thought into why teammates didn’t ask to hang out in his apartment, but he didn’t want to either. He didn’t want to think of all the reasons why people didn’t want to be with him. 

Just thinking of his teammates not wanting to hang out with him reminded him of Auston. More specifically, what Auston said. He started to tear up when his phone started to ring. Mitch looked down at his phone and froze. He looked down at his watch and cursed, realizing a second too late that this was the time his dad had set to call him. The phone went silent in his hand and Mitch looked down again in panic. His phone rang again and Mitch answered this time.

“Hello father” Mitch said, bracing himself for the verbal abuse he was about to hear.

“Oh so you remember you pathetic excuse for a hockey player” Paul Marner yelled through the phone. Mitch hunched over, shoulders coming up to his ears with his back curling up. His dad wasn’t here, but it felt like Mitch could feel the glare through the phone, and damn did he feel small. 

“Are you in The Room?” Paul asked. Mitch started down the hall to the farthest room in the apartment.

“Not yet, almost sir” replied Mitch. 

“Maybe I should come down to your apartment and beat your ass. It seems like you are forgetting every lesson you were taught boy. Do you want me to come? Because I might, even if you don’t want me to come. You need to remember your place and my god. After seeing you play tonight, I don’t think you remember.” Paul was shouting so loudly at this point that Mitch had to hold the phone away from his face. His ear was ringing slightly and Mitch could still hear every word clearly with the phone at an arm's length away. Mitch was always impressed with his father’s ability to enunciate clearly while shouting. Mitch assumed it was so that Mitch couldn’t blame not understanding him over the phone. 

By this point Mitch was outside The Room. Mitch pulled out the key to unlock the door and opened it. As he stepped in Mitch could feel the walls closing in around him, suffocating him, making him aware of every little detail The Room had to offer. Ironically enough, The Room was the largest in the apartment, but boy did it make Mitch feel small. He turned on the lights and looked around The Room.

The walls were white, but they were the opposite of bare. They were covered with newspaper clippings, reports, printed pieces of paper, and notes. Everything on the walls had one thing in common. They all talked about Mitch’s weaknesses, his mistakes, the reasons why he shouldn't be on the team. Every single one of his turnovers were depicted with pictures from his father. Every penalty was written down and put up on the wall. Every time he failed to stop a goal, or broke a piece of equipment was also up there. Quotes from coaches, hockey staff, analytics were up there. Even comments from random twitter accounts criticizing his play were up there. Anything that could be taken as a negative about Mitch’s play was up there. 

The lights in The Room illuminated the paper covered walls. There was no furniture, no windows, nothing that would make The Room pleasant to be in. Some floors are heated, but Mitch was always of the opinion that this floor was cooled. The Room was never warm. It always felt like an ice box.

“What does the scale say boy?” Paul asked after finishing his rant. The only thing on the floor of The Room was a scale. At the beginning of every call from his dad, Mitch was made to stand on the scale and report to his father his weight. Mitch was always small for his age and hockey players. This was another thing that his father commented on. His dad always said that Mitch was a liability to his team because he his weight. Paul claimed that Mitch’s weight was one of the reason why he was a horrible player. He was too injury prone, but Paul couldn’t decide if Mitch not playing on the Leafs would help them (since Mitch wasn’t there to screw up) or not. Paul wanted Mitch to pack on the pounds, making Mitch spend hours in the gym with weights until he could lift anymore or stand. Paul always pushed him to his limits, and then some. Nothing would stop Paul, and while Paul saw Mitch as a disgrace, in more than one way, Paul knew that Mitch brings attention to the name Marner. However, all Paul could see was the negative attention, so that's what he hounded Mitch with. Always making sure Mitch knew how much he fucked up, and how much he had to improve. 

The idea of lying crossed his mind, but he knew that the scale reported back to the company's account, allowing Paul to track his weight throughout the year. Paul knew what the scale was saying, but he wanted Mitch to tell him, he wanted Mitch to know of his failures to increase his weight. “The scale says 168, sir” Mitch replied as he stepped down from the scale.

“Pathetic. And you wonder why you aren’t able to control the puck, boy. It’s because all the players on opposing teams knows what it means to be a hockey player. They put in the wok and effort and they weigh more than you. They are able to push you around and off the puck because you weigh nothing boy. You are a little doll on the ice in skates that they control. You are a liability. Why isn't your weight increasing? Have you been following the workout plan I gave you?”

Mitch curled in on himself even more. He was following the plan, on top of the one that the Leafs made him do. He woke up at 3 every morning so he could get in extra training, and he did the extra exercises that his dad sent him after practice so he could work on puck control and speed, but of course, no matter what he did, Paul wasn’t impressed. Nothing Mitch did impressed him. 

Mitch didn’t want to weight more, he didn’t want to do the extra exercises. But he knew he had to keep working out. All the boys who Auston picked up in clubs where skinny, muscular guys. Guys who looked attractive, brown hair and blue eyes, but nothing like Mitch. His mouth was too big and he was bigger than the other boys. Mitch knew that for Auston to even look at him he needed to be skinnier. He needed to be more muscular. He needed to be less like Mitch. 

Mitch allowed his father to rant about his lack of play-making and how he cost his team the game, shrinking in on himself even more. The thoughts he tried so hard to go away came back in full force. The harsh whispers of ‘you aren’t good enough’, ‘worthless’, ‘liability’, ‘pathetic’, and such rattled around his head, dizzying Mitch to the point of forcing him to sit down on the cold floor, knees up to his chin, arm wrapped around his legs, trying to make himself as small as possible. His throat grew hot once more, choking on the tight force preventing him from swallowing painlessly. 

Mitch started to hit his hip with his fist. Repeated force to the area. The dull thud turned to a sharper pain as his father continued to yell at him. Mitch looked up at the walls, and the words on the pages started to come off the walls and swirl around his head. Everything as starting to overwhelm him, so Mitch started pounding his hip with his fist, harder, faster. The pain started to engulf everything else, giving Mitch something to focus on as his father droned on over the phone, now talking about Mitch’s footwork, and what he should do to improve it. 

Eventually the phone call ended. However, Mitch had to promise that he would Facetime so his dad could oversee a late night workout at home. It was midnight by the time his father hung up, and Mitch would promise just about anything at this point. He was shocked he only had to Facetime for one workout at home instead of more. Something must have happened at home that put Paul in such a good mood.

Home. What an idea sighed Mitch. He didn't’ really have one anymore. After his mother kicked him out when he told both her and Paul he was gay. All he’s had was the house of his billet family with the London Knights and then this apartment. But Mitch wouldn’t call this apartment home. Paul bought it for Mitch because it was close to where the Marlies practiced and worked so that when Mitch was sent down he wouldn’t have to travel far and would be easy to get rid of if he was sent back down to London. 

Mitch left The Room, locking the door. His apartment wasn't any warmer than The Room, and it didn’t feel as welcoming. Mitch didn’t have much furniture or decorations up. Only the bare minimum of blank walls and sparse item littering the floor. There was one table and chair. No sofa, couch, or lounge chair. There was a good quality TV, but that was so Mitch could watch hockey tape and write down notes about his performance and how well other teams are able to beat him. The only furniture in Mitch’s bedroom was the mattress on the floor. His apartment was meant for surviving, not thriving, but boy did Mitch feel as if he were barely surviving. Everything around him just reminded Mitch of how he could do better. How he wasn’t better. How he won’t be better. 

And with those thoughts circling again in his brain, Mitch collapsed on his bed, and fell into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like the new chapter. Again, I'm severely dyslexic so please tell me if there are any spelling or grammar errors. I really would like feedback so I can make this a better reading experience for everyone.
> 
> If anything confuses you, let me know so I can explain it and fix the chapter to make it more readable/ easier to understand. 
> 
> Also let me know if I should add more tags to the story 
> 
> Hope you have a great day!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay. Hope you enjoy.   
> There is a scene where self-harm is thought about and described.

The blaring of the alarm woke him up. Mitch was curled under a couple of thin blankets which did nothing to stop the cold permeating through his clothes. Mitch shivered as he unfurled himself to reach over and turned off his alarm. The bright 3:00 shone from his phone reminding him of the time. Mitch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. All he wanted to do was curl back up under the blankets and go to sleep, but he knew if he stayed in his bed any longer he would fall asleep with dangerous consequences. He didn’t want to provoke his father anymore than he already had the night before. 

Mitch sat up and shivered. He looked down and winced as he saw he was still wearing his game-day suit from the previous day. It would have to be dry cleaned now to get rid of the wrinkles, leaving Mitch with only a few suits to wear for events and games. While he may be making almost a million dollars a year with his contract, he saw almost none of that money. It all went to his father who gave him a monthly allowance to spend on clothes, food, rent, and any other outside entertainment. With his allowance Mitch had to make hard decisions about when he could go out with his teammates to restaurants, and when he did, Mitch always had to watch what he ate. He couldn’t afford most of the food at the places where the team went and there had been a few occasions where Mitch almost didn’t have enough money to pay for his food. 

Mitch pushed those thoughts from his mind as he got up from bed and stretched. He had to get a move on or he would be behind in his workout, and his father had everything planned down to the minute until Mitch had to leave for practice so Mitch knew he didn’t have a lot of time. As Mitch started to take off his suit, his bare wrists flashed up at him, and he stopped what he was doing to look at them. His skin was pale (he didn’t tan, he burned), but the scars looking back up at him seemed to glow silver in the darkness of his room. The lines were straight, almost perfectly so, causing Mitch to snort with derisive laughter. Of course that was the one thing he could do perfectly, permanently mar his body. The urge to add to his collection wasn’t strong today which shocked Mitch. After everything of the past night he expected the urge to be full blown. He expected to crave the warm feeling of the blade sliding across his skin. He imagined the cool blade turning warm as it glided across his wrists, drawing the vibrant red from within and exposing it to the air. He remembered the feeling of how that action warmed him, how it made him feel hot in his cold apartment.

As he continued to think of the blade in his bathroom, Mitch started to dress for his workout. By the time Mitch got to the workout room, what everyone else would consider to be the public space in an apartment, all Mitch could think about was the blade. He wanted to feel warm, and today, that feeling was the biggest desire Mitch had. The apartment had been unusually cold for the past week because Mitch didn’t have enough money to pay for heat. There had been a mandatory team bonding excursion. They had gone to an upscale restaurant in Toronto with a private room and nothing offered had been in Mitch’s budget. He had to go over or have to tell someone on the team that he couldn’t pay for his food, and how embarrassing would that be. Mitch also didn’t want to tell anyone because who would he tell? 

At the restaurant, Mitch had been banished to the very edge of the table. Everyone was talking around him, but no one had been looking in Mitch’s direction. Freddie had focused his whole attention on Connor as Brownie had been looking upset earlier that morning, and the one thing that Freddie loved most of Brownie was his smile. All lunch was Freddie trying to make Brownie smile and laugh, which he was rewarded with multiple times. By the end of the outing Brownie was completely lax against Freddie, no longer caring who might see. Freddie had been sitting with his side to the wall so he had shifted to so his back was against the wall with Brownie’s back to his chest. Freddie had an arm wrapped around Brownie’s abdomen with another running up and down his arm. Freddie had also been whispering into Brownie’s ear the whole time. No one knew what Freddie had been saying but all Brownie did was stretch his head back and kissed Freddie full on the lips before turning his head a little to snuggle into Freddie’s chest.

As Mitch watched this exchange the whole of lunch, he was incredibly happy and jealous. He was happy that Freddie and Brownie were together. During Mitch’s first year with the Leafs he and Brownie had been very close and Brownie spent a good amount of the year pinning after Freddie, so seeing them together made Mitch incredibly happy. Brownie was the best person he knew, almost always smiling and bringing straight joy into a room with his antics. But watching them that day made Mitch’s whole chest ache, one so forceful that Mitch had a hard time breathing. He wanted that so much with Auston, but he knew Auston would never want someone like him. The jealous pinning burned in his chest, but Mitch couldn’t act on his feelings. All he could do was watch Auston hook up with guys who were more attractive then himself, and Mitch would never dream of telling Auston his feelings. 

Everyone else at the table had been busy with their own conversation. Unfortunately all that had done was make Mitch feel less like part of the team. He would try and add something to a conversation but was always overshadowed by someone else’s comments, and when Mitch lifted up Marty’s arm to snuggled under it, Marty lifted his arm off of Mitch and shoved him away slightly. Mitch gave up after that and sat listening to the laughter of his teammates while poking at his food. Mitch remembered sighing to himself over the waste of money since he didn’t eat most of the salad and chicken, and all it meant was no heat for the rest of the month, something he had not been looking forward to.  
Mitch looked at the clock as the memory from last week faded from the forefront of his mind. Mitch looked away from the clock only to realize that he had seen the time, but hadn’t absorbed it, making it necessary for Mitch to glance at the time again. He saw that he had an hour before he had to leave for practice, something that Mitch was dreading. He remembered everything from last night perfectly, and the last thing he wanted to do was walk into that locker room and pretend that nothing had happened. 

As he put his weights down, Mitch could feel that bone deep ache settle throughout his body, an indication that he had overworked himself. Well, if Mitch were Paul it would mean that Mitch hadn’t been working enough and had been slacking off in his workouts recently. Mitch knew that he hadn’t, if anything he had been going harder than ever, trying to overcompensate for his lack of production in the ice, but Mitch knew that he couldn’t tell anyone else because his team would tell him he was over exerting himself while his father would tell him he wasn’t working hard enough. No matter what Mitch did he could never satisfy anyone, and all Mitch wanted was for someone to pull him into a full body hug and tell him how proud they were of Mitch. Mitch held on to that fantasy as he got into the shower. He continued his fantasy, even though he knew it would only make reality worse. Mitch could just imagine Auston pulling him don onto a couch, hugging him. Mitch would be wearing one of Austin's ridiculous sweatshirts that would be too big on Mitch’s smaller form. Auston would be laying on the couch with Mitch in his arms on his chest. Auston would pull a fuzzy throw blanket down off the top of the couch and wrap it around them, all while whispering how proud he was of Mitch to him with Auston’s other arm under the sweatshirt, rubbing his hand up and down Mitch’s back, keeping him warm. Mitch would snuggle into Auston’s chest with his hands on Auston, feeling the power and strength of the muscles in Austen's body underneath Mitch. 

Mitch shook his head violently as he stood under the weak spray of the water. He needed to get these thoughts out of his head as they would only serve to hurt him more in the long run. Mitch needed to focus, put on his game face as he prepared to start driving to the practice rink. Mitch quickly finished his shower and rushed to get ready for practice. As he ran down the stairs, Mitch made sure to knock on Mrs. Hudson’s door giving her a quick hug. After promising her that he would be back in the afternoon for a talk and giving Ranger a belly scratch, Mitch left for practice. 

As he drove to the rink, Mitch started mentally preparing himself for the day. He loosened the muscles in his face as he got ready for smiling and laughing, even if no one wanted him there. Mitch was of the opinion that while the team may not want him around, he would try to not do things that would impede their work. Mitch wouldn’t bring the mood down y frowning and not adding to conversations. He would try and be positive, and maybe infect someone with his fake happiness, but hey, fake it to you make it has been scientifically proven to work. Mitch wondered when it would happen to him. He smiled constantly, faking it in front of the media, his teammates, fans, anyone who would demand his attention or work. Mitch still wasn’t sure where the line of being overly obnoxious and just someone being happy was though, and that was were he was having the most trouble. All Mitch wanted to do was make people feel better, and he did have a lot of energy at times. Mitch was thankful for his morning workouts more recently as they decreased his energy which made him less overbearing on him teammates... he hoped. But Mitch spread love best through touching, hugs specifically, so he went around the locker room to spread joy the only way he knows, but Mitch felt as if he wasn’t welcome doing this. 

He didn’t know what to do anymore. So all he did was act the same around his team. He didn’t want them to know what was going on in his life. They wouldn’t care, and Mitch didn’t want to burden them with his relatively small problems in hockey and life and make his teammates feel as if they had to help Mitch out of obligation. The last thing Mitch wanted was to bring more problems to his teammates plates, even those who he was really close to, or was close to.

Mitch and Brownie used to talk about everything, but Mitch pulled away after Brownie got with Freddie so they could properly have that honeymoon phase, but now it seemed like there was an ocean wide chasm between the two of them, and Mitch didn’t want Brownie to think he was being possessive or forcing Brownie to spend time with him, so Mitch didn’t try to talk to Brownie for fear that Brownie would want to part of him.

And Auston, what could Mitch do. It hurt to be with him. It hurt so much that it felt like another panic attack was coming, but without the heavy panting. It felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest making it close to impossible to draw in a breath. And after what Mitch heard last night in the hallway, Mitch knew now without any doubts that Auston wanted no part of him. That hurt the most out of everything in his life. Not that Mitch could complain about his life. He had a great life, what with playing hockey on the team he grew up cheering for he had a fantastic team who he thought only the best of, even if they didn’t like him. While his mother kicked him out of the house, his father still talked to him, showing Mitch that he paid attention to what Mitch did, even if all his father found were negatives. Mitch didn’t know how Chris was doing. The last time he had seen Chris was when Chris came barging into his apartment after Mitch had first moved in to attack him. Chris had punched Mich almost to unconsciousness all while telling him how disgraceful it was to have a gay brother. Chris had spat in his face before leaving, telling Mitch to never contact him again and never to call his mother again since Bonnie no longer wanted Mitch as part of their family and had been the one who told Chris about Mitch being gay. Mitch only knew this because Paul had called the night saying it was all Mitch’s fault that the family was in shambles, saying Bonnie had called Chris in hysterics and Chris came over with blood on his fists. Paul told Mitch that is Bonnie needed therapy or Chris needed to see the doctor for his hands, that Mitch would be paying the bills. Mitch didn't even try to stand up for himself as the thought never crossed his mind. Mitch just stood there in The Room. The first piece of paper up in The Room had been the medical bill for Chris.

Mitch arrived the rink. Taking a few deep breaths itch prepared himself for a long practice. He started to think of Ema Matthews and her smile. Whenever Mitch needed to smile, or wanted to feel better, he thought of Mama Matthews and her hugs. When she first met Mitch, she had swept him up in one of the tightest hugs he had ever experienced, and for the first time in a ages, Mitch had felt truly safe and loved from an adult. It scared Mitch as he knew that Ema Matthews’ was first and foremost Auston's mother, but Mitch needed to smile for practice, and while her son only brought tears to his eyes, Mama Matthews made him feel at peace, ready to face anything that came his way. 

Mitch stepped out of his car, forcing himself to smile. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t let anyone see any of his so called struggles. He had to prove to everyone he could do this, he had to show he was worthy, and to do that meant showing 120%. Mitch took one last breath before stepping into the hallway. He had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you are all having a great week and that you have fun plans for the weekend!  
> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out, but I hope you enjoy it. I'm not sure how often I will be able to post, but at the very min I will try to do a chapter every week or so. Probably more often on weekends as I am taking summer classes, and they require a lot of attention.  
> That being said, I don't think I could abandon this fic any time soon. reading your comment and seeing the kudos always makes my day brighter, and I hope reading this has made yours better.   
> Please let me know if there is anything I can do to make this better or more clear, and if you have any ideas, please don't be afraid to share! I can't promise I'll incorporate them into the story, but reading outside views is always a good thing. Brings new ideas possible!  
> Thank you all for the comments, kudos, and hits. I never imagined anything like his happening, especially with only a few chapters out.   
> Hope everyone has a great day!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Connor's perspective. Hope you like it!

Connor was sitting in his stall unlacing his shoes when Mitch walked into the dressing room. Brownie had noticed something off with Mitch the past few weeks, and while he couldn’t quite put a name on the feeling, Brownie was determined to get to the bottom of the problem. Brownie continued to unlace his shoes while observing Mitch. He remembered how close they used to be. Mitch would bounce back and forth between Auston and him, but ever since Brownie had gotten closer with Freddie, Brownie had noticed that Mitch distanced himself more and more. Connor wasn’t going to lie, he first thought that Mitch distanced himself because Connor and Freddie were in a relationship, but as soon as that thought had crossed Connor’s brain, he dismissed the idea as ludicrous. Mitch had been the best friend anyone could ask for. He had been imploring Connor to ask out Freddie, had insisted that Freddie felt the same way. Connor remembered how Mitch had sat up with him one night and curled around him, holding Connor as he had cried and just talked about his fears and worries. Mitch was the best friend anyone could ask for, and Connor felt like he couldn’t do anything to help Mitch now.

A hand curling around the back of his neck, forcing it up jolted Connor from his thoughts. As Connor looked up, another hand came up to his mouth and pulled his bottom lip from his mouth. Freddie looked down at him in his shirtless glory, towering over Connor, but he didn’t feel intimidate. Freddie was always careful around Connor, well, when they were in public at least. Connor remembered last night and blushed from his roots all the way down to his shoulders, his ears and cheeks burning red hot.

Freddie tightened the hand on the back of Connor’s neck, drawing Connor’s back to Freddie once again. This time Brownie shook his head to clear his mind of anymore wandering thoughts. He needed to concentrate, and all the thoughts weren’t helping, but Freddie’s hands were grounding him, allowing Connor to settle. Any last drifting thoughts disappeared from his mind as he felt all the restless energy from watching Mitch disperse, allowing Connor to focus on the present matter of hockey. 

Connor looked up at Freddie as Freddie sat down beside him, turning Connor to face him.

“What are you thinking about baby?” Freddie asked, drawing Connor closer towards him, so that his legs were over Freddie’s lap. 

“Nothing” replied Connor, as he leaned forward, resting his head on Freddie’s shoulder, only to turn his neck a little so he could observe Mitch.

Freddie followed Connor’s gaze, and observed Mitch too.

“Are you also worried about Mitch?” Freddie asked Connor, causing him to shut up and look at Freddie right in the eyes. Connor hadn’t thought anyone else had noticed anything off with Mitch, but then again, Freddie was a goalie. And if there was one thing Connor knew, it was that goalies were observant to the fault. People watching wasn’t a passion for them, it was a profession. Now that Connor thought about it, he couldn’t remember a secret that a teammate had kept that Freddie hadn’t known about before it was announced to the team.

Freddie watched as Connor deflated back into his arms, not needing a verbal response to know Connor’s reply to his question. Connor didn’t want to move from Freddie’s arms as he continued to watch Mitch. 

Mitch was the light of the locker room. He was always smiling, joking, and bringing smiles to people’s faces. No matter what role a person played in the ACC, Mitch seemed to know everyone’s names and their family. Connor remembered one afternoon after practice where it took Mitch a couple hours to get from the locker room to the garage because he kept stopping to talk with people and ask how they and their families were doing. Connor was amazed by all the names Mitch knew, along with all the details about their families. Mich had asked about sports, work topics, types of food, and anything else that could be talked about. It astounded Connor how Mitch remembered everything, but all Connor thought about after was how Much it was to do that. Mitch was always down to earth, asking how people were doing and thanking them profusely for their work, no matter the role they played. He had handshakes and inside jokes with most of the staff within the ACC and Connor wouldn’t be surprised if it was with everyone in the ACC, from the janitors to the security guards. Mitch always made sure to that everyone he saw for their work. If anyone wanted to talk with him, Mitch would let them, no matter how he was feeling. Even after a tough loss, Mitch would stop and chat with staff, no matter what the hour was, or how horrific the press were with their grilling.

Connor remembered a time when Mitch wouldn’t think twice about going up to hug someone. When Mitch would just jump right into a group of teammates and force himself into the conversation by popping up under someone's arm and basically demand a hug, more often than not that someone was Matts. Mitch would jump from benches onto their teammates backs and demand a piggyback ride, or just squeeze down in between two people and snuggle up to one of them. Now, Connor sees a hesitation when Mitch enters the room. Connor sees how Mitch looks at their teammates with this puppy dog expression on his face, silently begging for someone to ruffle his hair, or sling an arm around Mitch’s shoulders. Connor also notices how Mitch doesn’t go throwing his weight around anymore, almost like Mitch is afraid that he would be shoved off or told to go away.  


The more that Connor observed Mitch, the more worried he got. Connor watched as Mitch began to undress, and sucked in a breath as Mitch took his shirt off. Connor could see Mitch’s vertebrate clear as day, and they were on opposite sides on the room. The knobs were standing out, but not too sharply. There was also a suspicious looking bruise on Mitch’s hip that Connor didn’t think was caused by the game yesterday. Connor looked around, wondering if anyone else was seeing what he was. As Brownie looked around the locker room, he observed that none of his teammates were looking at Mitch. Everyone was off having their own conversations. In fact, Connor didn’t think that anyone had talked to Mitch when he entered the room. Connor didn’t remember anyone getting up and saying hi, or giving their resident puppy a hug good morning. 

Puzzling over this new piece of information, Connor glanced back at Mitch, only to see the front this time. Mitch’s ribs were starting to be visible, with his collar bones protruding as well. Connor looked up and saw a gaunt sort of expression on Mitch's face. Connor noticed the dark circles underneath the eyes, and wondered for the first time how Dylan Strome got the title of raccoon when really it belonged to Mitch. The ever permanent staple on Mitch’s face seemed to have gotten worse lately, but Connor had always chalked it up to stress, but Connor didn’t think stress was the only factor in play now. Everything indicated that there was a bigger problem.

Mitch was no longer seeking out attention, or being loud in the locker room. Sure he smiled and made sure the team was smiling, Connor was starting to the cracks in the facade. Connor observed how Mitch would turn his head down or to the side with an expression of nothing, only to close his eyes, take a breath, and then beam while bringing his head up. If one didn’t pay enough attention, Connor could easily see how their teammates didn’t see how dead Mitch’s eyes looked, or how he emoted no feelings for those brief seconds in between comments. And while hockey players were known for their non existent emotional aptitude, present company included, Connor didn’t think that the Leafs were this bad. They had always been a pretty tight knit group that had sleepovers all the time on the road. They would have all sorts of conversations, and never for one second did the team have a lull in conversation where it was awkward, or lasted for a long time. Everyone always had something to say, and they had always avoided major disagreements.  
Yet the longer Connor watched Mitch, the more upset Connor got. Mitch looked like he was two seconds from falling over from sheer exhaustion. His smile was blinding, but no emotion came through with it. All it was was an empty promise. His eyes emoted nothing, while his body stance screamed tense. 

Giving Freddie one last hug and a kiss to the shoulder, Connor stood up. He was about to walk over to Mitch and give him a hug, but at that moment Babcock walked into the room and announced that they had ten minutes to get on the ice or there would be two extra bag skates to do that day. Connor paled. He knew that last night’s game had been horrific, but he hadn’t realized how invigorated this had made coach. Bag skates were bad enough, but the way coach had said it made it seem like they were in for an entire day of them, something Connor did not want to be a part of. Connor started to tear off his clothes and started to dress in hockey gear promising himself that he would partner himself with Mitch as much as possible today. Giving one last glance to Mitch, Connor pledged to get to the bottom of what was plaguing Mitch. If there was one thing Mitch deserved to be, it was happy. And if there was nothing Mitch wasn’t anywhere near to being, it was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I am so sorry for the delay in posting a new chapter. Sorry it is shorter, but hopefully it still reads well.  
> Any questions please don't hesitate to ask for clarification! That way I can edit the chapter and make it a better experience for everyone.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments, kudos, and hits. I never in my wildest dreams thought my story would get this amount of attention, and I cannot than you guys enough. You make me want to write more, something I almost never feel. 
> 
> Thank you for this wonderful feeling, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I hope you have a great day!


	5. Chapter 5

By the time that practiced had ended, Mitch was dead on his feet. Practice was rough. After Babcock’s threats of two extra bag skates, the team kicked started into action. Forget ten minutes, everyone was on the ice in five. No one wanted to piss off Babcock even more. But even with everyone arriving five minutes early on the ice, Babs was unforgiving. Everything was tested from endurance to speed, from puck control to 3 on 1’s. Everything hurt, and there was no resting. In many ways it felt like preseason camp. If felt like it was a tryout to make the team. No one was slacking, and boy did their muscles feel the burn. 

Mitch felt like he was going to collapse as he skated off the ice. Everything hurt, which did not bode well for his late night FaceTime call with his father tonight. He had wanted to get in some extra shooting drills but Babcock had demanded everyone get off the ice, and Mitch didn’t trust his position on the team was secure enough to allow him to push back. It felt like Babcock was staring at him all of practice, as if Mitch was the one who needed the most observation. It threw Mitch off, made him feel sloppy. It also didn’t help that the balance of the team energy was thrown off slightly. Brownie was by his side for as much as practice as he could be, and Mitch didn’t understand why Brownie would be with him. Mitch glanced at Freddie a few times, wondering if everything was okay between the two of the, but they had seemed fine before practice, so Mitch didn’t put much energy into that train of thought. 

As disconcerting as it was to have Brownie by his side, Mitch ran with it. He knew his job was to make everyone as happy as possible, and Mitch did everything he could to get Brownie to smile, extra points to him when he made Connor laugh. It didn’t take much work, admittedly, for Connor was a bit like a puppy himself, just a more tame one. It was easy to please Brownie, and Mitch did everything he could think of to keep Brownie smiling. Even though that job was easy enough to complete, it drained Mitch a little faster. He worried that Brownie had noticed something, and the last thing he wanted was for Brownie to worry about him. Mitch knew he overreacted to most things, so having Brownie notice these over reactions was not good. Mitch made a mental note to write that down on one of the lists in The Room. 

There were many lists, but this one was about where Mitch needed to improve so that he didn’t bother other people. Mitch always made sure to go over the list at least once a day so he could be less annoying to the people around him. Mitch also made a list for every teammate, writing down certain behaviours or topics that frustrated and angered that player. Each list was tailored to one player, and while Mitch tried to follow the lists to a t, it was hard when hanging out in groups. Sometimes one teammate would like something that would piss off another teammate, in these situations, Mitch just found it best to shut his mouth and keep his head down. He’d go and cuddle up with a teammate to try and change the topic. Mitch also had to be careful there because some players didn’t like too much physical contact, so Mitch also wrote that down. If the team wondered why Mitch seemed to change his approach with every player, no one committed, so Mitch figured no one had noticed. Hockey players in general weren’t very observant, and Mitch banked on that. He worried most about the goalies, but Freddie and Mac hadn’t said anything so Mitch figured he was safe, for now at least. Brownie hanging out with him at practice was nice, something Mitch did enjoy even if it made him paranoid, but it was out of character for Brownie, so Mitch figured he needed to put a lid on his feelings, and make sure that he wasn’t portraying any of his feelings.

As Mitch was undressing, getting ready for a shower, Matty came and stood over Mitch. Looking up, Mitch marveled, not for the first or last time, just how big Auston was. Mitch always felt small around him, but the small feeling didn’t make Mitch feel vulnerable like when his father yelled at him, it made Mitch feel safe around Matts, like Matts could curl up around him and protect him from all the abuse the world threw at him. Blinking, Mitch realized Matts had said something and was waiting for an answer.

“Uh, sorry Matts. I blanked for a second, what did you say?” Mitch responded. He looked down, wanting to avoid contact, because while Mitch felt safe around Matts, Mitch was also keenly aware of the phone call he overheard last night between Austin and whoever was on the phone. Mitch wanted this conversation, if it could be called that, over so he could distance himself from Matts, so Matts wouldn’t have to be around him longer than he wanted. 

“I was just wanted to know if you were going to come over to my apartment this afternoon.” Auston responded, still staring down at Mitch. 

Mitch paused. He forgot that after basically every practice, Mitch would follow Auston back to his apartment and stay over all afternoon, and most evenings. Mitch tried to stay out of his apartment as much as possible, but after last night, Mitch didn’t think it would be appropriate. Mitch started to think how often he had gone to Austen's house when Auston probably didn’t want him there. At the very beginning, Mitch would wait for an invite to Matt's apartment, but as they had gotten closer, Mitch just followed Matts. However, this year Mitch started to wait for an invitation again as his slump picked up steam, and Mitch noticed how everyone seemed to be bracing themselves when he was around. 

If Mitch hadn’t heard Matts’ phone call last night, Mitch would have gone over, but now that Mitch was aware of how Matts felt about him, Mitch started to overthink everything. He repeated what Auston said in his head, and realized it wasn’t as much as an invitation as Mitch had thought it was upon first hearing. Auston had always phrased his invitation that way, but know Mitch realized that it wasn’t an invitation, more of resigning himself to the idea of having to spend the afternoon with Mitch in his apartment. 

Mitch had never realized just how much he was over at Matts, and how he basically never gave Matts anytime to himself. Mitch had only ever thought of himself, how he wanted to spend as much time as possible with Matts. Whether it was watching Netflix, playing video games, or just talking, Mitch wanted all of Matts attention. 

Remembering Auston and the question he asked spurred Mitch into saying “Not today Matts, sorry. Got plans.”

With that Matts looked at Mitch for a minute, frowning a little, with his eyebrows pinched in enough to create a ridge on the forehead, before nodding and walking off. Mitch breathed a sigh of relief, and slouched, only now realizing how tense and ramrod straight his back had been when talking to Auston. Quickly glancing around the room to see if anyone had noticed, and observing no looks or questions from those around him, Mitch finished stripping and went to the showers. 

After taking a quick shower and dressing himself in outside clothes, Mitch was just gathering his stuff when Brownie popped up beside him with a blinding grin on his face.  
“Hey Mitchy!” said Brownie.

Mitch smiled in what felt like a real one for the first time in ages at that. There was something about Brownie that made Mitch just love him uncontrollably. Don’t get Mitch wrong, he wasn’t in love with Brownie, but Mitch loved Brownie so much. Brownie felt like the older brother Mitch no longer had. They had spent so much time together last year, and Mitch missed those times. Anytime he wasn’t with Auston, Mitch was with Brownie. Brownie was an example of what Mitch wanted to be. Brownie was small for hockey players, but his skill was undeniable, and Mitch wished he had Brownie’s never ending positive and happy to be alive attitude. Brownie never got caught up with reporters telling him he needed work, all he heard was the coach’s advice and ran with it. Brownie was dedicated to the team, and Mitch admired how Brownie never seemed to lose control. Freddie had done wonders to him, giving him a solid foundation to rely on. Freddie was always tunned into Brownie, and that unrelenting support and love from Freddie allowed Brownie to flourish. It really was amazing to see. 

“I saw you weren’t following Auston back to his apartment today, and I wondered if you wanted to do something today with me?” Brownie continued.

Mitch wanted to say yes so bad, he missed Brownie so much, but he just couldn’t today. He didn’t feel as if he was under enough control to maintain the facade of seemingly having his life together, and Mitch was worried that whatever they did would break his already broken budget for the month.

“I’m sorry Brownie, I wish, but not today. I have an appointment I need to go to” Mitch said, looking down. He did feel bad, and he wanted to, but he couldn’t afford to let Brownie see him break down over small problems. 

Brownie’s smiled turned down a little, before he quickly turned it around, flashing another blinding smile at Mitch.

“Okay Mitchy, just promise me that we are going to hang out soon. I feel like we haven’t hung out much recently, and I miss us!” Mitch could never be upset with Brownie, and smiled while replying that they would hang out soon. After getting confirmation from Mitch, Brownie had crashed into him for a long hard hug, which Mitch gladly returned, sinking into the hold a little. Brownie pulled back a little, saying “Love you lots, Mitchy! Don’t be a stranger”, leaning in to give him one last quick squeeze before turning away from Mitch, and heading over to Freddie. 

Mitch left soon after that. He hadn’t lied completely, he did have previous engagement that he couldn’t miss, but it just felt ironic considering all that had just happened. Over the summer, Mitch had found two hockey teams that he supported as much as he could. One was an all-girls team, and the other being a team that supported LGBTQ+ players who wanted to play, but didn’t feel as if they could play for fear of discrimination. Mitch understood their feelings perfectly and he did everything he could to support the two teams.  
He had slashed his budget significantly over the summer and this year so he could donate as much as he could to the teams. Providing them funding helped with equipment, coaching, and ice time. Mitch also did some off jobs at the rink so the team could use the ice. He tried to stay as anonymous as possible, but the rink owner, and both coaches knew of Mitch’s efforts and contributions to the teams. Mitch had made them sign NDAs because he didn’t want it going out to the public what he did. But because the coaches knew about him, it meant that he could watch tape with the coaches of the teams, and give pointers on how to improve their teams’ hockey. He gave them drills that they could try, and told the coaches what they should look for when the players did the drills.

While Mitch knew that he was helping the teams, he also knew he could do more. If he he was brave enough, Mitch would call a press conference and tell the world that he is gay, giving kids a “role model”, showing the world that people who are gay can make it to the big leagues, no matter how bigoted minor league teams are. Undeniably, that was an end goal for Mitch, but Mitch wanted to make sure he was staying up before that happened. He wanted to be able to say I’m a good enough player to be here. He didn’t want to tell the world, only to be kicked to the curb, showing kids that gays can’t play. He needed to secure his place, but he also needed to work past his father and family would take some effort. Effort he wasn’t sure was reasonable to expand during the season. 

Puzzling over his life decisions, Mitch pulled up to a rink in the outskirts of Toronto, and got out. He smiled looking at the rink. While the coaches and owner knew who he was, they never talked Maple Leaf hockey with him. They just allowed him to watch the practices and help them come up with game plans and drills. Nothing demanding, just pure hockey for the sake of hockey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the chapter! 
> 
> Feel free to share ideas or notes, and if you see a mistake let me know please!
> 
> I hope to have one or two more chapters out this weekend so fingers crossed!
> 
> Have a great weekend!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, I hope you like this. I have a lot of ideas for this, but I will probably be slow to update and I am very sorry about that. I am so sorry if it is confusing to read or follow. I am severely dyslexic and I am relying on Grammarly, word, and google docs to check all of my work. If there is a typo (or more!) please do not hesitate to tell me so I can fix it!
> 
> Please comment down below if you are confused about anything or would like me to add more tags. I will gladly explain anything or add more tags so people are better prepared for what they will read.
> 
> My tumblr is https://www.tumblr.com/blog/waterismylifeuniverse (Waterismylifeuniverse) if you would feel more comfortable reaching out to me there (I should have asks up and everything)
> 
> And my email is Oceanlandscientist@gmail.com if you would like to contact me there. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this and thank you for bearing with me!


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